


Dedicated

by XaviaAndromedovna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (aka general Naomi warning), (if you squint in Spanish), 5 Times, Album: Dedicated (Carly Rae Jepsen), Biphobia, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Attitudes towards Sex Workers, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love Confessions, M/M, Mind Control, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Quote: Y yo a ti Cas | Me too (Supernatural), Self-Esteem Issues, Songfic, canon-typical codependency, no beta we die like wavelengths of celestial intent, sam doesn't get paid enough for this, these boys can't afford therapy so I guess I gotta do it myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna
Summary: Dean and Castiel finally confess their love for each other and it all makes sense now.Or, five times the author had Destiel feels while listening to Carly Slae.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. Julien

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is the last of them, I can finally move on with my life (at least until I have to rewatch the series for my dissertation but that's a problem for future!me). I haven't seen the earlier seasons in about a decade so pretend I know what I'm talking about. I was originally gonna do the whole album but then I decided to love myself.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m forever haunted by our time.
> 
> Julien, in your heart yeah you must believe  
> Julien, it was more than a fantasy  
> To the end, through the last breath that I breathe  
> I'll be whispering Julien

**2009**

Ever since that siren almost got Dean to chop Sam’s head off, the tension between them that’s been growing since Dean got back from Hell—from long before that, if he’s being honest—has been on a constant cycle of bubbling over into shouting matches that they quickly shove the lid back onto while they drive in excruciating silence. This round, they’re fighting about dad and his parenting strategies.

“Yeah well guess what Sammy, I didn’t have it easy with him either. What, you think our relationship was all sunshine and rainbows? He was just as hard on me as he was on you!”

“That’s not true and you know it, he always liked you better.”

“Are you kidding me right now?! Dad didn’t like me, he needed me. You were his pride and joy, the smart one, the one who got to run away to California and get out of the life—”

“I knew it! I _knew_ you resented me for going to Stanford. Well get o—”

“I didn’t resent you, I was jealous!”

Dean focuses his attention solely on the road in front of him, jaw clenching to prevent himself from saying anything further. Sam watches him in shock for a couple seconds before facing forward as well. The silence is a living thing, a third passenger leaning in between them from the back seat, begging them to continue. The more miles they speed down, the more the silence demands an answer. Dean wants it to end there, but he knows Sam’s just waiting for him to elaborate, granting him the space to follow up on that admission even as he has to audibly calm his breathing. He’s not getting out of this one.

“You didn’t have a monopoly on disappointing dad,” he eventually mutters. Sam huffs out an exhale by way of response but lets him continue. “You got out, Sammy. You got to live it up in San Francisco and get a girlfriend and find out who you are outside of hunting. And I wanted that for you, of course I did, but if you think for a second that I didn’t need that too, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He glances over to see his brother gazing out the passenger side window, clearly listening but allowing for the illusion that he isn’t. “But dad needed me to be a hunter, so I became what I had to to survive. Just like I did in Hell.”

Sam wisely ignores Dean’s rare mention of what his time in Hell was like, instead commenting: “I thought you loved hunting.”

“Yeah well, it depends on the week,” Dean smiles mirthlessly. “But it doesn’t matter how I feel about it because that’s who I am now.” Sam doesn’t respond, waiting him out. Dean resolutely watches the road. “But every once in a while, I’d think about it, y’know? What it would be like to live with you by the Bay, not constantly looking over my shoulder, free to do what I want and find someone to… maybe not settle down with but at least _someone_. And it wouldn’t matter what dad thought about them because it’s not his life and he wouldn’t have a say in who… in anything.”

Sam turns to him then, and out of the corner of his eye Dean can see his furrowed eyebrows. He’s said too much. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he braces for Sam using that big brain of his to put two and two together to get a sparkly pink four. Sam’s eyes widen and he goes back to looking out the windshield with feigned nonchalance. Mercifully, he doesn’t seem to have a response (yet), so Dean cranks up the volume to firmly close off this line of discussion.

That works for all of twenty minutes before Dean gets frustrated at Sam’s fifth aborted attempt to start a sentence. He pointedly turns the radio off with a sigh. “Just ask it, Sammy.”

Sam smiles in sheepish relief. “Who was he?”

Got it in one. Dean supposes he should be grateful that Sam didn’t start by peppering him with questions he can’t answer or telling him how supportive he is or asking if Dean means what he _thinks_ he means. They can move onto the important part, which is what this revelation has to do with their earlier fight.

“Do you remember Julien?”

~~~

**1996**

On a Monday in early November, Dean and Sam set the record for their longest tenure in a school district so far. The fact that it’s the same one they started the semester in is even more unbelievable. Dean worries a little that Sam might become too attached to the place if they stay much longer (though his psych teacher would probably say he’s “projecting” or some shit). Also, Dean’s already broken several girls’ hearts and he should probably get out of there before he’s hooked up with half the junior class.

After wrestling practice, Dean and his friend Julien walk down to the gas station the high schoolers frequent when they’re cutting (not much else to do in a town this small). The clerk rolls her eyes at their antics but hands Julien a pack of cigarettes and wishes them a nice day. Julien’s only one grade and one weight class above him, and they get along a little too well for most of their teachers’ liking. He’s also kind of a band geek with his oboe case dangling from his hand, but he helps Dean practice the guitar skills he picked up during his stint in reform school, so he’s the coolest of the band geeks.

The pair walks to the nearby park in the mild warmth of fall in North Carolina. They’re comparing notes about their most recent liaisons, with Julien having just been on a date last night. “It was honestly the weirdest kiss I’ve ever experienced. Man, I don’t even know how to explain it. First of all she just kind of stood there like this.” He gets in front of Dean, arches his back with his neck straining as he pushes his face forward and puckers his lips. “Like what do you think this is, a rom-com?” Dean laughs and shakes his head, dutifully ignoring that Julien is still standing right in front of him. “So I kiss her and she does this thing with her tongue—”

“I like where this is headed,” he smirks.

“See you’d think that,” Julien counters excitedly, “but it was like she was trying to find a popcorn kernel in my teeth.”

“What?”

“Dude, it’s… words cannot describe it, I’d have to show you.”

Julien’s still smiling like he didn’t just offer to kiss Dean. He swallows nervously. “Show me?”

“Yeah, so okay,” he continues, getting into position again. “You be me and I’ll be Chrissy.”

“Dude I’m not gay.”

“So?” Julien looks at him quizzically like he truly doesn’t see the connection. “Neither am I, it’s a re-enactment not a come-on.”

Dean considers pointing out that it’s still two dudes kissing, but his friend seems genuinely unbothered by the implications and… well… Dean is curious to know what he’s going on about. “Okay,” he exhales. Julien beams at him and puckers his lips out again. He’s not really sure how this is supposed to work, but he figures Julien will explain and leans in, silencing the parts of him screaming that this isn’t as innocent as he’s telling himself it is. Their mouths connect and Julien places Dean’s right hand on his shoulder and his own on Dean’s cheek. Dean focuses on the mechanics of it because that’s why he’s doing this, for illustration purposes. Eventually, he dares to dart his tongue out and Julien greets it with his own. He breathes out slowly to calm his mounting nerves when suddenly Julien inserts his tongue in-between Dean’s top lip and his teeth, running it back and forth across them like a toothbrush.

The bizarre sensation snaps him out of the kiss and he pulls back abruptly, rubbing his mouth along the sleeve of his jacket. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Right?! Who does that?” Julien goes right back into telling the story, completely unfazed by the fact they were just swapping spit two seconds ago. Dean nods along and smiles at what he assumes are the right points but his brain is already into overdrive processing his first kiss with a boy, and how not disgusted he was by the feeling, demonstration notwithstanding. When they part as it starts to get dark, Julien off to his house and Dean to the motel, a small part of him wonders what he would do if Julien tried to kiss him goodnight. He shuts that part down quick and puts up his hood, walking the opposite direction.

Usually Dean’s spank bank is populated by models and former girlfriends, but after the fourth day in a row of his kiss with Julien firmly inserting itself into the line-up, he decides they need to address it. “Man, I don’t know what you did, but I can’t get that damn kiss out of my head.”

“Wait really? You’re still hung up on that?” They’re standing side-by-side leaning against the backside of the park entrance sign, where no one can tell they’re still in the park after dusk. “I guess I’m better than I thought,” his friend grins smugly.

Dean nudges him away with his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He laughs and resets, thinking quietly for a second. “Would kissing you again make it better or worse?”

Dean turns his head to him incredulously. “How could that possibly make it better?”

Julien shrugs. “To show that it doesn’t mean anything.”

This is probably just an excuse to kiss him again. Maybe. He’s known the boy long enough to be able to tell when his confidence is exaggerated though, so it’s possible he’s telling himself the same thing. That’s what makes Dean decide to lean over and test the theory.

When they pull apart to breathe, Dean can’t bring himself to look Julien in the eye. “Umm… I think that made it worse.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He finally looks up into his friend’s panicked eyes. Julien is just as confused and nervous as him. “Should we try again?”

“Yeah,” he breathes before diving in with abandon. Dean loses all sense of time and space kissing him, completely wrapped up in the tidal wave of fear and longing crashing over him. Since he’s otherwise preoccupied, he registers too late the presence of the worst possible person to find them.

The Winchesters are gone by Monday.


	2. Everything He Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's clear  
> We'd like to fool around  
> His hands reach for mine
> 
> I know it's tough  
> Baby, keep both eyes on the road  
> A right, a burnt-out streetlight, only halfway home  
> He needs me

**2013**

“I need you.”

Of all the things Naomi trained him for, all the hundreds of Deans Castiel has killed without hesitation, nothing could have prepared him for this. Dean Winchester, bloodied and begging, calling him family. “We need you. _I_ need you.” And that ‘I’—all the things it leaves unsaid but that resound as clear as day (I believe in you, I care about you, I want you in my life, I love you)—that ‘I’ makes all the difference.

The angel blade clatters to the ground and with his brief moment of clarity he fumbles for the angel tablet. Suddenly the hold Naomi has over him vanishes and he is left with the immense relief that Dean is still alive. This is quickly followed by the deep guilt he feels for having almost killed the man he loves (again). Castiel is not safe here. The tablet is not safe here. _Dean_ is not safe here. So Cas does what he has to: he leaves.

But the entire time he’s on the run, those words run through his head. “I need you.”

 _He needs me._ Of course, the longer he’s away, the more he can pick that sentence apart and create more logical explanations for what this utterance means. The angel has always known their relationship was fairly one-sided; Castiel is devoted to Dean and Dean… didn’t actually say he loved him or cared about him or any of that (although he did call him family, so perhaps that’s an indication that Cas was on the right track). Instead, Dean said he _needed_ him. But Dean has always needed him; his value to the man has always been what he can bring to a fight, what purpose he can serve in Team Free Will’s mission to save the world. Even in Purgatory when Dean didn’t _know_ he needed him, Cas was keeping him safe. Castiel is a means to an end, nothing more.

Yet “ _I need you_ ” continues to echo throughout the entirety of Cas’s vessel, the most explicit statement of Dean’s affections so far in their relationship. Perhaps in another version of their story that wouldn’t be enough, needing to hear the words ‘I love you’ to fully comprehend what Dean’s saying (and maybe in that version Dean would really say it). But Dean is rarely so direct with his emotions. The way he said it, it was as if it was in the same line of thought as saying Cas is family. As if Dean doesn’t need him the way he sometimes needs Crowley, or borax, or time, but the way he needs Sam or the approval of his father. Cas isn’t just something he’d prefer to have around as an advantage but a personal need.

And that, the possibility that Dean needs Castiel as much as Cas needs Dean? That is why Cas couldn’t kill him no matter how hard Naomi tried.

~~~

**2009**

Perhaps Castiel should have taken the warnings throughout the millennia more seriously: it is deceptively easy for an angel to fall. Although, he takes an exceedingly small comfort from the fact that he was not the only one. In fact, it has been made very clear to Castiel that he has been woefully unaware of just what intrigues were occurring in Heaven all this time. Between Uriel’s machinations and whatever Zachariah has planned, he has had to question the very foundations of his existence. Is he really serving the will of God? Does any one truly know what that is anymore? Where is He?

All he knows for certain is that this swirling vortex of turmoil in his abdomen isn’t supposed to be there. There is something intoxicating about Dean Winchester, an unbearably fascinating pull that makes Castiel wonder how something so beautiful could be so misused. Strictly speaking his primary responsibility for Dean ended shortly after the man’s return to Earth, but Castiel found it increasingly difficult to resist learning more about this human so important to the divine plan that he was to be rescued from Hell by an angel of the Lord.

One would expect that after reconstituting the man atom by atom, Castiel had a pretty firm grasp on how to understand him, but he found himself constantly confused by Dean’s mannerisms and references and customs, things he seemed to just expect Castiel to understand. It serves to emphasize just how different they are, and it is the fundamental cosmic difference between them of which Castiel has to keep reminding himself to avoid irrevocably dooming himself to an eternity of reaching for something he can’t have. Unfortunately, he has a growing suspicion that it is already too late; perhaps that’s why they call it ‘falling in love’.

He’s not entirely sure why ‘last night on Earth’ equates to ‘visit a den of iniquity to patronize a sex worker’ but he indulges Dean because it seems to make him happy. He would do virtually anything to make Dean happy, and that is really the core issue. His superiors were right—he is far more invested in Dean Winchester than is proper, and it has already proven to be his fatal flaw. He may very well perish tomorrow, all because of his infatuation with one human. And what’s more, what terrifies Castiel the most is that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

If falling is what it takes for Dean to toss his arm around his shoulder like this, to laugh with this most carefree of smiles, to look at him like he’s the best thing to happen to him all day, then so be it.

Frankly as an angel Castiel has practically zero interest in sexual activity, and if he were to engage in such a thing it would not be with a stranger as part of a financial transaction. But as Dean drives them back for the night, streetlamps illuminating the side of his face every few yards, mouthing along with the words to the song playing from a cassette, Castiel decides that if there were any human with which he would consider having sexual intercourse, it would likely be Dean. As it stands, however, Castiel would much rather spend his last moments of existence doing exactly this: cruising along a dark rural highway in the Impala next to Dean Winchester.

At some point, Dean says to him, “I've had more fun with you in the last 24 hours than I've had with Sam the past few years.” While Castiel can’t say he’s ever had ‘fun’ with Lucifer’s destined vessel, he can certainly agree with the sentiment that the past 24 hours have been considerably better than most of the other days the angel has experienced on Earth since resurrecting the man beside him. It occurs to him that since he will surely not survive whatever comes next, there’s really no harm in imagining that perhaps Dean’s affections towards him aren’t strictly utilitarian. He would never presume to assert that Dean in any way felt towards him the same immeasurable love that Castiel harbors, but he wonders at how much more amicable their relationship is now than it was when Dean’s first instinct was to shoot him, then stab him. And in the astronomically unlikely event that Castiel does get more days with Dean, he would love the chance to continue fostering this… perhaps friendship is the appropriate term. If he is to be a fallen angel, then he shall make it his goal that Dean, the man he fell for, will keep that smile on his face for the rest of his Earthly life.


	3. Happy Not Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But if there's something between you and me  
> Baby, I have no time for it  
> I'm happy not knowing  
> And please don't stir it up  
> I'm sure it's nothing but some heartburn, baby  
> And I'm happy not knowing
> 
> I'll turn your love away 'cause I want to sleep at night  
> It's just that my broken heart is my alibi

**2020**

“I know how you see yourself, Dean.”

Of all the possible follow-up sentences to Cas’s cryptic speech about wanting things you can’t have and being happy “just saying it”, that was not the one he was expecting. And with a slowly dawning horror Dean knows exactly where he’s going with this, what the thing Cas can’t have is. He can’t have it because in addition to all the insecurities Cas is currently rattling off, as far as Cas knows, Dean also sees himself as straight. After all these years, Cas is about to say out loud the one thing they’ve always found a way not to say. And he thinks he has to do it alone.

Cas might be happy making it explicit, removing all the uncertainty, but Dean is much happier not knowing whether or not this is real. Because if it’s real, if he truly does have Cas the way the angel thinks he can’t, then that means he can lose him too. And by the sound of it, that’s exactly what’ll happen the minute he says it.

There are two things he could say in this moment. His first instinct is to beg Cas not to do this, not to say it out loud, not to acknowledge the full weight of what they’re about to give up to stop Chuck. But a wiser, sadder, more compassionate part of himself screams for him to take this leap with Cas, to jump in while he still can, while he’s still in front of him to hear it. There’s no more time to dance around it or be scared of it, and Cas deserves to know.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Cas.”

~~~

**2014**

Dean’s not stupid, okay? He knows that his relationship with Cas is… unique. Demons and angels alike are always quick to point out how devoted to Dean Cas is, and he’s received enough knowing glances from Sam to guess his thoughts on the subject. What would be helpful is if _Dean_ knew what exactly he was feeling. On any given day he and Cas are a revolving door of alliances and betrayals and disagreements and declarations of affection. The only thing he can say for sure is that Cas is important to him, and he’s important to Cas. Ultimately, it’s all he really needs to know.

 _But the SUBTEXT!_ , he can almost hear Marie emphatically whining. Damn it, how is that musical still bothering him a month later? Besides, can it even be considered subtext if Chuck’s prophesying things as they happen? Wouldn’t that just make it—

There are times when Dean feels like he’s on a precipice above a cold, deep ocean and any moment someone is going to come up behind him and push him over. He can’t jump voluntarily and never wanted to, but some days it feels inevitable that the water will eventually swallow him whole and he’ll never get back to shore. It’s remarkably similar to the burbling undercurrent of rage the Mark of Cain has given him, but in the opposite direction. One is the uncontrollable urge to kill; the other is the undeniable pull towards… letting himself want something else. Either one would surely be the end of him.

( _“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”_ )

…Why is he waxing poetic like a heroine in something you’d find on a high school required reading list? The point is, even if there are places he _could_ go with this information, they are places he can never allow himself to go, because once he goes there, he can never come back. Most of the time it’s too dangerous even to acknowledge their existence. But that doesn’t mean they’re not there.

Every time he’s confronted with those damn _Supernatural_ novels that feeling returns, like everyone around him knows the one thing he thought he’d done such a good job of burying. Then again if it wasn’t buried it probably wouldn’t be called subtext. It’s humiliating that somehow, despite his best efforts, to most of the population he’s best known for how dubiously straight he is. Those two guys who LARPed as him and Sam—despite his eternal disgust at the implications, his story resonated so strongly with these gay guys that Demian saw Dean as someone to model himself after. In the musical, Dean and Cas were played by two girls who were themselves in a relationship, and the, well, _subtext_ of Marie’s mention of ‘Destiel’ was that Dean’s feelings for Cas being decidedly not platonic or brotherly is central to the story. Whichever way you slice it, regardless of how he sees himself, his legacy is queerer than a three-dollar bill.

And he just doesn’t know what to do with that information.

Ultimately, while it hits a little too close to home, he’s resigned himself to the fact that people are gonna see what they wanna see and he can’t control how people interpret his actions. And if his story makes some random queer person feel a little less alone in the universe, then maybe that’s not so bad. As for himself, that’s not a reading he can afford to consider.

There are times though, when he’s feeling particularly masochistic, that he allows himself to consider the what-ifs. Right now, he and Cas are sitting in a diner, talking about his (vessel’s) daughter and debating if ketchup is a vegetable, and it just feels so _normal_. Well, maybe except for the part where he asks Cas to kill him if he completely loses it due to the Mark, but to be fair, for them that is normal. It’s a brief moment of peace in the raging shitstorm of their lives and it gives him a glimpse into a life they maybe could have had.

 _Catching up on how each others’ days went over dinner. Pointless discussions that spill over into silly disagreements with no consequence. Stolen glances and stolen bites of sandwiches. Watching kids grow into amazing young adults. Waking up next to each other in the bunker. Fighting side by side, or maybe even retiring. Holding hands on the beach. Kissing in the moonlight._ More _than kissing in the moonlight. Shouting to anyone who will listen just how gone he is over this damn fallen angel. The whole nine yards._

Cas smiles at him with the same subdued yet fond grin Dean’s come to appreciate, and it turns his stomach against the fries he’s currently shoving into it. That line of thinking is dangerous; he tried the apple pie life with Lisa and Ben and look how that turned out. Everyone who gets close to him ends up dead or worse, and with the Mark of Cain seared into him, tragedy is practically inevitable if he opens that door. Even if he and Cas could have been something more—not that he wanted that necessarily but even if it were possible—they would still be here, staring down the near-certainty that someday Dean will lose control completely, and Cas and Sam will have to pick up the pieces, assuming they’re not dead already themselves. This is hard enough as it is; Cas doesn’t need the pain of knowing the full extent of how much this sucks.

So Dean does what he always does. He takes those feelings and thoughts and passing fantasies and shoves them so deep into the recesses of his brain that he can forget they were ever there. He protects those he cares about from the biggest threat to their existence: himself.


	4. Right Words Wrong Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna see your face  
> I'm afraid I couldn't wait for you  
> I'm afraid that I would break  
> Only want me when I'm leaving you
> 
> This time, it's heartbreaking  
> You always got the right words at the wrong time

**2019**

Dean will eventually tell Castiel that he should have stopped him, that he forgives him, that he’s sorry. Cas knows he’s more comfortable saying these types of things when there’s no guarantee Cas can hear him, and it’s enough for him to say it like that; he doesn’t make him say it face-to-face. There’s no time and there’s no need. What matters is that Dean is alive, safe in Castiel’s arms again—the rest they can figure out as they go.

But that’s all much later; the fact is Dean doesn’t stop him leaving. He just lets him walk out the door, as Castiel knew deep down he would. That’s why he’s doing it in the first place.

“ _Why does that something always seem to be you?_ ” Dean has said some nasty things to him in their roller-coaster of a friendship, but few were as cruel as this or the unabashed hatred in his eyes as he says it. The part of Castiel’s heart still holding on to hope that this isn’t really happening thinks that Dean regrets it as soon as he says it given the way he averts his eyes, but the time for hope has long past.

“You used to trust me,” he responds quietly, taking stock of just how far they’ve fallen. “You used to give me the benefit of the doubt.” And of course they’d both betrayed that trust time and time again. But evidently some things can’t be forgiven. “Now you can barely look at me.”

Ever defiant, Dean looks up at him harshly, but doesn’t hold his gaze long. All the signs Castiel has been ignoring come rushing back to him. This isn’t going to change with an apology, and they certainly can’t fix it by bringing Mary back, and nothing Cas says or does will ever make it right in Dean’s eyes. “My powers are failing and I’ve tried to talk to you, over and over, and you just don’t want to hear it.” A fact Dean confirms with a roll of his eyes. “You don’t care, I’m dead to you. You still blame me for Mary.”

Dean concedes the point with a tilt of his head, and Castiel has had his fill of Dean’s obdurate silence. If he was waiting for Dean to contradict him, to assure him that things weren’t as bad as all this, he need wait no longer. Dean has said to him all he’s going to, probably for the rest of his life if he gets his way. And closing the chapter on Dean Winchester for good, so has Castiel. “Well I don’t think there’s anything left to say.”

After Castiel made his deal with the Shadow for Jack’s life, a small part of him simultaneously hoped and feared that against all odds Dean could love him back, that maybe someday when this was all over… But the rest of him knew it would backfire on the Shadow because Castiel would never get to be happy. There was a time when perhaps he and Dean could have had something, but it became clear the moment they found out about Mary that he would never get to be with Dean the way he wanted. What he didn’t quite realize until just now was that even their friendship could not survive her death; when Dean says you’re dead to him, nothing will ever break that grudge. Even if he hadn’t smitten Belphegor they would still be standing here. Dean would still refuse to look at him except with that piercing glare of unbridled rage and Cas would still be wishing things were different. There’s nothing for him here, not anymore.

When he turns to leave, Dean finally opens his mouth. “Where are you going.” It’s barely a question, more of a demand. Apparently he’s not done fighting it out. But Castiel is done wasting his time on someone who will never view him with anything but loathing.

“Jack’s dead,” he answers, unable to face the man who helped raise his own mom’s killer because Castiel brought the Nephilim into his life. “Chuck’s gone, you and Sam have each other.” And once again, Castiel is alone, weakened, and heartbroken. The stunning genius of the Shadow’s curse dawns on him; it knew Cas would never get to be happy, so he will have to live in his misery for all eternity and won’t be the Shadow’s problem for eons. He’s already lost.

He risks one last parting glance at the love of his life. Even when he’s cutting him out for good, furious and bitterly cold, he’s still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester. “I think it’s time for me to move on.”

Dean could say anything, literally anything at this point, and Cas would stay. He hates that he’s so wrapped up in the man that his resolve could crumble with a word, but he knows it’s true, just like he knows it doesn’t matter because Dean isn’t going to ask him to stay. It really is over this time. Castiel walks out of the bunker and Dean lets him.

~~~

**2020**

“Love you too, Cas.”

He’s certain he misheard, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe… but he knows in his heart he heard what he wanted to hear. Right? Not that it matters, the Empty’s coming whether Dean loves him back or not. And even if he did really say it, it suddenly occurs to Cas that he probably feels obligated to say that given that he’s about to die for him.

Sure, they had patched things up in Purgatory after Rowena chastised them for their stubbornness and with Dean frantically searching for Cas as the clock ticked down. But Cas has always known his affections were one-sided and has made his peace with that. After Mary, any chance Dean felt the same was quashed, and while he appreciates Dean trying to make this easier for him, it’s unnecessary. He means it; it’s not about ‘getting the guy’ or whatever the ‘chick flicks’ call it, it’s about living his truth and making sure Dean knows how much he’s loved. That’s what makes him happy.

But then Dean turns back around, eyes begging and saturated with tears just barely retaining their surface tension, and somehow he knows: he heard him correctly. Dean loves him too.

Because of course it isn’t enough of a punishment to be repeatedly resurrected only for his love for Dean to be his undoing every time—now Cas has to die with the knowledge that after all that, he could have had what he wanted this whole time. Because Dean loves him. But the bitterness and the anger and the grief will hit him later; right now, his heart is full of love for someone who loves him back. He wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t making it up. _Love you too, Cas_.

“Cas,” Dean whispers desperately, but it’s too late now. He places his hand firmly on Dean’s left shoulder, the same one he grabbed to rescue him when they met. He feels the blood still on his palm stamp Dean’s jacket with one last physical imprint proving he was here, that this was real. He steals a final glance into the eyes of the human that shook the universe to its core and him with it.

“Goodbye, Dean.” And as Billie breaks down the door, Cas pushes Dean aside and awaits his fate with a smile on his face. The last thing he thinks before he is completely enveloped by the Empty is that he finally understands an idiom he never quite grasped. _I can die happy_.


	5. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Am I bad for you?  
> 'Cause I live for the fire, and the rain, and the drama too, boy  
> And it feels like you never say what you want  
> And it feels like I can't get through, babe
> 
> So be careful if you're wanting this touch  
> 'Cause if I love you, then I love you too much

**2020**

A couple days after defeating Chuck, Dean and Sam are sitting around the war room, basking in the peace. Their son is God, the planet is populated yet again, they have Miracle, it’s finally over. Everything is finally fine. Everything except…

You would think that with the amount of times they’ve all died, it gets easier to work through the pain and forget it. It doesn’t; in fact it hurts worse each time. Sam has been watching him like a hawk, because the _last_ time Cas died, Dean more or less tried to join him until Death herself had to step in. He understands why Sam’s worried, and he appreciates it, however annoying it is. But this time, he knows he has to carry this pain with him, because the very fucking least Cas deserves is for his sacrifice not to be in vain. He thought that acknowledging the truth would destroy him, but it turns out that right now it’s the only thing keeping him alive besides Sam. Cas loved him. And he loved him back. Still does.

“I’m bi.”

Sam looks at him with an unimpressed eyebrow. “Okay…” Sam seems to expect him to continue. “Was that in question?”

Dean huffs out a sigh and takes a swig of his beer. “Fuck off.”

He has the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, I’m just confused, that’s like decade-old news, what’s your po—”

“Alright, alright, you called it, good for you.”

Sam looks over at him in concern. “Dean, do you not remember coming out to me already?”

What? “I think I’d remember that.”

“Really, dude? This was back in like… ‘09 maybe? We got in that weeks-long fight after that siren guy and you told me about Julien? You seriously don’t remember that?”

He…told Sammy about Julien? “Huh. Honestly I think I blocked out most of that. But I mean all we did was kiss, how do you get ‘bi’ out of that?”

Sam stares at him in bewilderment for several seconds. “Unbelievable.” He scoffs and leans back in his chair. “I’m fascinated to hear how I was supposed to interpret that if not as you coming out, especially when you were talking about dad ‘having a say in who you love’ or whatever. Like, what, is that not queer enough? Does it only count if you marry a guy or suck his dick?”

“Jesus, Sammy, c’mon.”

“Dude, I’m not trying to be a douche, I’m genuinely asking. Like, did you just assume I didn’t know because you never said the ‘b’ word out loud?” Dean’s face must give away that that’s exactly what he thought. “Oh my god, really? Is that why you’ve been so weird about this over the years??”

Dean presses his eyes into his sockets. “Well I’m sorry not all of us are as _in-tune_ with our emotions as you, but it’s not exactly something I’m comfortable talking about, alright? If I had my way, we would have just left this as an unspoken understanding.”

Sam laughs in frustration. “So then why are you telling me this now?!”

Dean downs the rest of his beer and goes for another one, Sam calling after him. He was expecting this to be a production, but ironically he could have just skipped to the important part instead of explaining that him liking a guy isn’t out of nowhere. At least Sam doesn’t seem to care; he’s more freaking out because he thought they already _had_ this conversation. Which… explains a lot actually. He sits back down and pops the cap on a fresh beer, Sam raising an unamused eyebrow at him. He takes a sip and decides to rip off the band-aid. “Cas told me he loves me.”

Sam’s face drops. “What?”

“Yeah. That’s why the Empty took him. They had some kind of deal that if he was ever truly happy, it would come for him, and apparently his bliss was telling me he’s in love with me.”

“Fuck.” Sam settles back in his chair in shock. Dean hates how this solidifies for him that it really is as bad as he thought, that he didn’t just make this up and Cas is just off doing something else. The man he loves is dead because of him, again, and this time he’s staying that way. “Did you say it back?”

And that’s why he loves his little brother. He doesn’t even have to ask; he just knows it’s true. He also knows how much Dean would be beating himself up if he’d left Cas hanging—and let’s be real, it’s extremely likely he would have done just that. “Yeah, I said it.”

Sam sighs in relative relief. “Well thank Jack for small miracles.”

He snorts, because he can’t help but agree. Incredibly, it could have been worse. They sit in silence for several moments before Sam slaps the table once and stands up.

“So, how are we getting him back?”

“What?”

“What’s the plan? I’m thinking we should start with Jack. He brought him back last time, and that was before he was God.”

“Sam—”

“Honestly I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

“Exactly.”

Sam stops. “What do you mean?”

He refuses to look up from his bottle. “Don’t you think if he could, he’d have done it already?”

“Well did you ask?” Nope. “Dean—”

“I can’t— Sam, if I ask him and he says he can’t do it, then it’s over. The last thing I want to see right now is that look on Jack’s face when he tells me there’s nothing he can do. I don’t think I’m strong enough for that, not this time.”

Sam says nothing for a while. “Okay,” he finally mumbles. He puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder before leaving him alone in the main room.

~~~

**Eternity**

After Sam gets to Heaven—and it really did feel like no time at all—they sit side-by-side in the Impala and drive back to the Roadhouse, catching up on each others’ (after)lives.

“Yeah, apparently Jack and Cas did a whole remodel.”

“Cas? He’s here?!”

“Allegedly.”

Sam looks at him in surprise. “You haven’t seen him yet?”

“Hey, I just got here myself, man. And for once I finally have all the time in the world. I’ll see him when we’re both good and ready.”

“Wait, so if he’s back, why didn’t he come find us on Earth?”

“Oh believe me, that’s near the top of my list of questions.”

Sam just stares at him smiling. He understands the impulse. It’s a good thing they’re already in Heaven because instead of watching the road he’s spending more time inspecting his brother, who’s actually here next to him again. “I’m really happy for you, Dean.”

“I’m happy for you too, Mr. Old Age—tell me more about this namesake of mine!”

Cas is waiting for them when they pull up to the Roadhouse. Sam wastes no time pulling the angel into a bear hug that Cas stiffly but enthusiastically returns. They exchange pleasantries while Dean psyches himself up in the car. When he finally opens the driver side door with a deep exhale, Sam pats Cas on the shoulder and walks into the bar. Dean takes his time approaching the angel, taking in the features that haven’t changed one bit, down to the tearful, radiant smile he directs at the human. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” They stop just in front of each other, both too nervous to make the first move but desperately wanting to unite. “C’mere,” Dean finally caves, pulling Cas as tight as he possibly can.

Centuries pass while they embrace, for all Dean knows. All he cares about is the warmth of Cas’s body pressed against his and the feel of that damn trenchcoat in his fingers. He plants a tentative kiss on his lips, one that quickly becomes a passionate stand-in for all the words they didn’t have time to say on Earth. And then they’re laughing, the euphoria and absurdity too much to contain.

“Really Dean? I’m gone for a month and you get taken out by construction equipment?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I actually tried this time! I guess Chuck just had one more fuck you up his sleeve.”

Cas kisses his temple. “It’s okay, I understand. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Well,” Dean counters hesitantly, “maybe not nothing.” Cas looks at him in confusion. “There’s one thing we could do.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Dean places a hand on Cas’s hip and leans in to whisper in his ear. “For starters, we could get you out of these clothes.”

“I don’t see how that—oh.” Cas leans back with a surprised smile. “You wish to have sex.”

Dean rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “There you go. You interested?”

“Very, although the mechanics of that in Heaven are somewhat… untested.”

“Well then I guess we’ve got some work to do. For science.”

Cas tightens his own grip around Dean’s waist. “I suppose our designs could benefit from some experimental probing.”

Dean leans back to look him in the eye. “For the record, I’ll be the one doing the probing.”

Cas furrows his eyebrows a moment then laughs when the implication becomes clear. “If you say so.”


End file.
